


July 20th

by sophene



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Bat Family, M/M, Tim Drake is Catlad, Tim Drake is Stray
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 20:05:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16541291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophene/pseuds/sophene
Summary: Tim Drake, the teenage supervillain known as Stray, is not having a good night.





	July 20th

Tim isn’t planning on going anywhere that night, but Selina contacts him around 11:30.

“I got a job for you,” she says. “Meet me on top of the bank building at Bowden and Hampton Street in half an hour.”

There’s a click and his phone beeps. She hung up without giving him an opportunity to say he’s not interested.

Sighing, Tim goes to his closet. He pulls his black suit and equipment out of the hidden compartment behind the fake wall and gets dressed for the rooftops of Gotham.

Exactly thirty minutes later, he lands on top of the bank building. She’s already there, draped over a gargoyle and holding a large manila envelope.

“Hey Kitten,” she says, and tosses it to him.

Tim doesn’t bother with a greeting. Instead he opens the envelope and pulls out the contents: some printouts of bank statements, a mishmash of blurry photographs, screenshots of someone’s calendar, and a six page letter—front and back—which is addressed to Stray. He skims the letter and looks up at Selina, frowning.

“Another cheating husband? This was worth me coming out here on a school night?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” Selina says. She pushes away from the gargoyle and slinks toward him. “Is eight grand worth it?”

Tim’s eyebrows shoot up and he says, “She wants to pay me eight thousand dollars to catch her cheating husband? If she’s got that kind of money she should just divorce him and get a new one.”

Selina shrugs and says, “But she’s mad, and you know how people get when they’re mad. Apparently he’s a hard one to catch.”

“They all say that,” Tim says doubtfully, and looks over the bank statements. “Just once I wish you could bring me something interesting.”

“If you want to solve real cases, trade in your cat ears for some spangled panties and go work for the Bat,” Selina says.

“I can’t. You’d miss me too much,” he says.

She looks doubtful and shrugs.

“Besides, you know he doesn’t approve of my hobbies,” Tim says.

“Is that what we call theft and blackmail?” she asks.

Tim started out as a thief when he was still young and trying so hard to impress Catwoman, but it wasn’t long before realized that his true talent is digging up secrets. Sure, he plays private eye sometimes, but he’s also more than happy to dangle a person’s secrets in front of their face just to watch them sweat—to watch them _beg_. Batman has lectured him and Selina about it so many times that Tim has lost track. He knows he’s way beyond ever being Batboy material, and tells Selina so.

“You never know,” Selina says, shrugging. “He does have a weakness for pretty blue-eyed boys. You should give it a shot.”

“Gross,” Tim says.

Selina laughs, but Tim doesn’t. He glares at her and takes a closer look at the bank statements. She reaches out and taps his cat ears.

“Why are you being such a sourpuss tonight?” she asks.

Tim tenses. He can’t think of a single thing he wants to do less than talk about his feelings.

“Nothing. I’m just annoyed about cheating husbands and how predictably unsubtle they are,” he says, gesturing with the envelope.

Selina _hmm_ s.

“Well, call me if you get stuck in a tree,” she says, and detaches her whip from around her waist. She salutes him and jumps backwards off the bank building. Show off. Tim rolls his eyes and keeps looking through the case. 

* * *

 An hour later, Tim is hidden in a nook on the roof of one of Gotham’s many gothic-style churches. His binoculars are pointed at the corporate offices next door, into the windows of conference room 6E. It’s one of the only rooms in the building with the lights on this late at night, and two people are in the room, surrounded by computers, empty coffee cups, and stacks and stacks of paper.

It’s not the cheating husband case, because he’s not in the mood to be bored out of his mind. This is one of his own projects. He’ll work on the one Selina gave him later.

The night is mostly silent—or as silent as Gotham can get—but it’s soon interrupted by loud bickering. It doesn’t take long for the source of the bickering to become evident. Red Hood and Nightwing are swinging down the street. Tim lowers the binoculars and goes very still, hoping he won’t be spotted.

His luck is crap, apparently, because they actually stop on his church, of all places.

“When are you going to get over this?” Nightwing says.

“There’s nothing wrong with my ass. I have an amazing ass,” Red Hood says.

“The list didn’t say there was anything wrong with your ass,” Nightwing says. “It just said mine was better. You don’t see me bitching over what they said about your thighs.”

“Well yeah, because your thighs are garbage compared to mine. That’s a fact and you can’t argue with facts,” Red Hood says.

They walk side by side down the roof toward Tim’s hiding place. He tries to tuck himself farther into his nook. Unfortunately, Tim doesn’t realize that a pigeon has settled on the stone behind him. When Tim shifts back, the pigeon spooks and flies away. Their attention snaps in Tim’s direction.

“Lookie here, Nightwing,” Red Hood says.

He lunges, grabs Tim, and drags him out of the nook by the scruff of his suit. Tim doesn’t bother trying to get away.

Red Hood looks at the binoculars in Tim’s hand.

“Well, well, if it isn’t everybody’s favorite peeping tomcat,” Red Hood says.

Tim flips him off.

“Hood, let him go,” Nightwing says.

Red Hood does.

“Hey, Stray, you can settle something for us,” Red Hood says. He puts his hands on his hips, drawing attention to the holsters on his hips. “Who has the better ass? Me or Nightwing?”

Tim says, “Nightwing.”

Red Hood cusses at him. Behind Hood’s back, Nightwing tries not to smile.

“You didn’t even look at our asses,” Red Hood says, and Nightwing rolls his eyes.

“Ignore him,” Nightwing tells Tim. “Buzzfeed posted a list saying I’m the hottest member of the Batfamily and he’s being a baby.”

Tim knows what list they’re talking about. He looks up at Red Hood and says, “You came in second, so what’s the big deal?”

“Second place is nothing. Second place is trash. Anybody in the entire history of time who has ever pretended they’re happy with second place is a coward and a liar,” Hood says. “Besides, what the fuck would you know about butts anyway?”

Tim gestures to his binoculars and says, “Well, I do spend a lot of time looking at asses.”

He wishes he spent a lot _less_ time looking at asses, honestly. That’s what happens when you have to spend so much time tracking down cheating spouses. But Tim decides he’s had enough of talking about butts, so he changes the subject.

“What are you doing all the way over here?” Tim asks Nightwing. “You’re a long way from Bl _ü_ dhaven.”

“Official Bat business,” Red Hood says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Top secret. You understand.”

Tim smiles at him and says, “Of course. You know I love secrets.”

Nightwing cocks his head and asks, “What are you doing out here this late? It’s a school night.”

Tim shrugs and says, “I couldn’t sleep.”

Nightwing, ever an obnoxious mother hen, looks across the street at the bright conference room. He squints to see the people inside and observes for a few seconds. Then he turns back to look at Tim, frowning.

“I hope you’re staying out of trouble,” Nightwing says.

“Yeah, we better not catch you doing anything naughty,” Red Hood says.

Tim gives Red Hood his best dead-eye stare. He met them both ages ago, when Nightwing was Nightwing already but Red Hood was still Robin. Flirting is part of the Cat brand, but was an especially useful tactic against the younger Hood. He hadn’t known how to deal with it and would get so flustered that Tim could slip away right out under his nose. Then he disappeared for a couple of years and came back sharply different. He was some kind of unhinged mob boss for a while, so Tim tried to stay out of his way. Eventually, though, he was pulled back into the Batfold. Now Red Hood gets his revenge on Tim for all that innocent adolescent flirting by saying every suggestive thing that comes into his mind.

“I’m always on my best behavior,” Tim tells them.

“Somehow I doubt that,” Nightwing says, inspecting Tim’s equipment—his whip, the green goggles, his camera, the binoculars.

Tim knows he’s dressed like a steampunk dominatrix with a a voyeur fetish. All of the Bats have made the jokes, just like they’ve made them about Catwoman. Many of them have hooked up with him anyway.

“What did these two do to deserve getting your special attention?” Hood asks, jerking his head at the people in conference room 6E.

“Nothing,” Tim tells him. “They’re just busy little worker bees. I’m not interested in them. I’m interested in what they’re working on.”

“Does it involve weapons, drugs, or anything else I should be concerned about?” Nightwing asks.

Tim smiles at Nightwing and says, “Official Cat business. Top secret. You understand.”

Nightwing shakes his head and says, “You’re such a smart kid, Tim. Why don’t you spend your time doing something less unsavory?”

“I don’t know, _Dick_ ,” Tim says, and Jason snorts.

It’s been a while since anyone’s identity was a secret between the Bats and the Cats. Of course, Tim knew who the Bats really were long before Batman revealed his identity to Selina. Tim is very, very good at what he does—the only person better is Bruce Wayne.

“Leave him alone,” Jason says, slapping Dick’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “He’s old enough to make his own bad decisions, aren’t you Timmy?”

“If anybody would know, I guess it would have to be you,” Tim says.

“Ooh, Kitty has his claws out tonight. Are you looking for someone to scratch?” Jason asks.

“Knock it off, Hood,” Nightwing says. “You shouldn’t talk to him like that. He’s underage.”

Tim’s bad mood, which had been temporarily distracted by the conversation, roars back with a vengeance.

“Yeah, well, I was busy before you two showed up,” Tim says, and turns to go back to his nook. “If you aren’t going to turn me in for being up past my bedtime, then I would appreciate it if I could go back to what I was doing."

He settles back into his spot on the roof, and Nightwing and Red Hood give each other a look that they probably think Tim doesn’t notice.

“Sure thing,” Nightwing finally says. “See you around, Stray.”

“Later, Kitty,” Red Hood says.

Tim does not say goodbye. Nightwing and Red Hood get out their grappling guns and depart, leaving Tim with the night, and the two people working across the street who do not know he is there. Tim lifts up his binoculars and keeps watching. 

* * *

A little while later, Tim is sitting on top of an apartment building a couple blocks away, studying some papers with a small flashlight he keeps in his utility belt. It was painfully easy to break into the conference room after the two employees finally went home for the night. Gotham’s buildings need way better security systems.

One moment Tim is relaxed and reading the files and confident he’s alone, and then the next he’s positive he’s not.

“Hello Batman,” Tim says.

There’s a long pause, long enough that Tim starts to doubt himself.

Then Batman says, “Stray.”

Tim turns around and looks up at him.

The Dark Knight’s shadow is pitch black and enormous in the dark, and Tim’s heart pounds. He hates the fact that he’s still as terrified of him now as he was when he was a lot younger.

Running into Batman is something Tim never enjoys, but somehow it’s a thousand times worse when Tim has no idea why he’s decided to come looking for him. _Maybe the birds tattled on me_ , Tim thinks. He’s really not having a good night.

“What can I do for you?” Tim asks.

“You need to stop investigating Ulysses Tanner,” Batman says.

Tim frowns and stares blankly up at the Bat. He says, “The congressman? I’m not.”

“You are,” Batman says.

For a moment, Tim silently considers how to handle the situation. It’s pointless to lie to the world’s greatest detective—if Batman says he knows what Tim is up to, then he knows.

So Tim cocks his head in an indulgent way and says, “Let’s say I was checking up on Tanner. What’s it to you?”

“I’m not going to let you extort him. He’s a worse kind of criminal than you understand, and he needs to be brought to justice.”

Tim frowns up at Batman. He hates it when Batman intervenes on his investigations, when he gets all high and mighty and acts like Tim doesn’t know his own business. Tim has been looking into Congress Ulysses Tanner for months and knows exactly what kind of monster he is. Tim’s not a good person, but even he has his lines. Naturally Batman would assume that Tim merely wants to blackmail Tanner for his own benefit, though. He always assumes the worst about Tim.

“Maybe I could help you,” Tim says, trying out a winsome smile. “Maybe I also know some things you don’t.”

“I doubt that,” Batman says.

Tim stops smiling and rolls his eyes. More annoyed now than ever, he turns around as if showing his back to _the Dark Fucking Knight_ doesn’t make him want to wet himself. He picks up the page he had been reading and says, “Fine, I’ll back off Tanner. Have fun punching him or whatever. Goodbye, Batman.”

There goes months of work.

Tim is sure Batman has done his vanishing act thing, so he can’t help but flinch when Batman says, “Timothy.”

Tim looks back at him, not understanding what Batman could possibly still want.

“You should go home. I know what day it is,” Bruce says.

Tim stares at him for a moment, unable to believe his ears.

"I have no reason to go home right now," Tim tells him. Then he turns around and keeps reading.

A few minutes later, Batman really is gone. Tim checks to make sure.

* * *

Tim is taking a light catnap on top of a high school when Superboy floats down and settles on the ground at his feet.

Tim barely opens his eyes. He knows Superboy can hear how fast his heart is beating, but he still goes out of his way to sound bored when he says, “You again. What do you want?”

“Hello, Stray,” Superboy says.

One thing Tim hasn’t been able to figure out yet is the civilian identity of Superman and his various family members. If he spent more time in Metropolis he could probably figure it out in no time, but Gotham keeps him preoccupied. It would probably be a disgustingly easy mystery to solve too since Superboy’s idea of a superhero suit is a black t-shirt and jeans.

“Why are you in Gotham? Are you stalking me?” Tim asks him.

“Batman needed Superman’s help with something and he asked me to come too,” Superboy says.

“Hmm,” Tim says. He closes his eyes and crosses one leg over the other. “I don’t know why you’re bothering me, then.”

“I heard your heartbeat. I figured it was a good idea to make sure you weren’t breaking any laws,” Superboy says.

“Not at the moment,” Tim says. He waves his hand dismissively at Superboy and says, “Go away.”

There’s a small scraping sound. Tim opens his eyes and sees that Superboy is rising back up into the air.

Tim sits up a lot faster than he means to.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“Away,” Superboy says, and shrugs. “Bye.”

Then he turns and flies away.

Tim stares after him, speechless.

This is never what happens. There’s a certain script to the way they see each other. Superboy turns up and Tim accuses him of stalking. Superboy denies it and accuses Tim of doing something illegal. Tim tries to run away, and Superboy catches him, because, well, he has superpowers. Sometimes other stuff happens after that.

Maybe Tim is being slightly meaner than usual, but Superboy never just _leaves_.

Tim gets to his feet and pulls out his whip. He snaps the end around the top of a lamppost and swings after him.

The asshole isn’t even flying very fast, and Tim is furious about it.

“You shouldn’t have woken me up!” Tim yells at him as he swings through the air. “I was having a nice nap, and now I’ll never be able to sleep after seeing your stupid face.”

Superboy turns and flies backwards so he can watch Tim chase him, and he shrugs.

This just makes Tim even madder. He doesn’t know what kind of game Superboy is playing, but Tim’s not in the mood for it tonight.

“You don’t honestly think you can catch me,” Superboy says. “I have super strength, and I can fly. There’s a reason why I’m always the one catching you.”

“I let you catch me,” Tim yells back.

“Aw,” Superboy says, pressing a hand to his heart. “Cute.”

Tim glares at him. He can catch Superboy easily—he just has to be sly about it.

The chase goes on for a while—Tim swinging and running and jumping over rooftops and Superboy leisurely flying through the air—until Tim’s really starting to feel exhausted. Superboy acts like a douchebag, humming under his breath and weaving back and forth through the air like he’s having the time of his life. Finally Tim swings up and lands on a building, skidding over the flat roof to a stop. Superboy floats on, but stops when he sees that Tim seems to be too winded to continue.

“You ok?” he asks, smug as he watches Tim wipes sweat off his face.

He drifts a little closer. Tim gives him a nasty look but doesn’t say anything. He drifts forward again. Just a bit more, and…

Quick as a snake, Tim darts forward and leaps off the roof. He snaps his whip, curling it around Superboy’s arms and chest. Superboy’s eyes widen when he sees Tim hurtling toward him and he braces for the impact. Tim slams into him. He wasn’t prepared for it, and that was what Tim was counting on. Chest to chest, they fall onto the next roof over, which is slightly lower than the one where Tim stopped.

On his back on the roof next door, with Tim straddling him and Tim’s whip wrapped around his arms and chest, Superboy can only gape up at him.

“You ok?” Tim asks him smugly.

“You—you tricked me,” Superboy says.

“You underestimated me,” Tim says. He gets right into his face, glaring into eyes that are a much deeper blue than his own. “Don’t do it again.”

Superboy swallows and looks up at the night sky over Tim’s head. His cheeks are turning pink.

“Maybe this is what I wanted. Maybe I wanted you to chase me for a change,” Superboy says.

“Creepy,” Tim says, but he leans the rest of the way down and presses a kiss to Superboy’s lips. Superboy’s shoulders go loose as putty beneath his hands. _Desperate_ , Tim thinks, internally rolling his eyes.

But they stay like that for a while, even though they both know it would be easy for Superboy to get out of his snare. 

* * *

Sometime around 3 a.m., Tim’s feeling somewhat better. He’s hanging out on top of Wayne Enterprises, delighting in the fact that he got around some of Bruce Wayne’s fancy alarms, when Selina tracks him down.

“Hey Kitten,” she says. “What have you been up to?”

“Superboy,” Tim says, shrugging a shoulder.

Selina slips around him. She’s grinning and wearing a new necklace that she hadn’t been wearing earlier. More than the necklace, however, Tim is distracted by the fact that she has a tiny white kitten cupped in her hands.

“Happy Birthday, Tim,” she says, and hands the kitten to him.

He doesn’t even want a cat, so Tim doesn’t know why he takes the kitten from her. The bundle of fur is tiny and fits into the palm of his hand. It makes a soft meow of protest as Tim holds it to his chest.

“You got me a cat?” he asks. “You’ve never given me a cat before.” Like diamonds, Selina tends to keep them for herself.  

She shrugs.

“You know I can’t have a cat. My parents would freak if they found out I brought a cat into their house,” he says. But the kitten is already clinging onto Tim’s suit with its tiny claws and looking up at him with wide green eyes, so Tim doesn’t know why he’s protesting.

“It’s a girl. Call her whatever you want. Just not Snowball,” she says, pointing one of her claws at his face.

Tim gives her a half-annoyed, half-delighted look, and strokes the kitten’s back. Selina cocks her head as she stares down at him, her expression suddenly serious.

“Tim,” she says. “What’s bothering you tonight?”

The terrible feeling he’s been trying to ignore all night comes creeping back in. He focuses on the kitten and not on Selina.

“They forgot. My parents. They’re in Peru, I think,” he says. Their only son turned eighteen yesterday, and they didn’t even bother to call.

Tim hates that he cares. He’s Stray, the teenage supervillain who has dirt on every corrupt person in Gotham. He figured out who Catwoman was when he was seven and convinced her to make him her partner. He discovered the identity of the Batman two years later. He can make politicians and mob bosses dance like marionettes. He has Superboy wrapped around his finger. Stray shouldn’t care about his stupid parents.

But Tim Drake does. The boy who has to go home to a huge empty house, who never knows when his parents will return or if they’re going to bother to call him, does.

He doesn’t have to explain that to Selina. Without a word she wraps her arm around his shoulder and pulls him into a hug. Between them, the kitten meows in alarm.

“I’m sorry, Kitten,” she says into his hair.

Tim closes his eyes and lets her hold onto him. She’s a better parent to him than either of his parents ever were. Lying, thieving Selina Kyle has done more for him than Janet and Jack Drake ever did.

“Thanks for the cat,” he says.

“You’re welcome. Your parents will get over her,” she says. She leans back and gives him a wicked smile. “They will or they’ll have to deal with me.” 

* * *

Now that he has the cat, Tim gives up altogether on even pretending that he’s going to get some real work done. Instead he finds the top of an apartment building with a nice view of the city and spends the rest of the morning leaning back against the metal rooftop door. The kitten is delighted to be able to climb all over him. It purrs and meows and tries to claw its way up to his face. Tim’s never considered himself to be one of those people who goes crazy over an animal, but he has to admit that maybe he was wrong.

He’s still playing with the kitten when he hears a snap and a crack, and someone swings into view.

A small figure flips up and lands on the half wall that wraps around the perimeter of the rooftop. It’s a surprisingly graceful move for someone so small, but then Tim catches a flash of red, yellow, and green, so bright even in the dark of the early morning. It’s the littlest Bat, the latest Robin. Damian Wayne, Batman’s blood son. So, not that surprising after all.

Robin stands with his hands on his hips, looking over Gotham like a tiny king surveying his kingdom. Tim assumes he wouldn’t be posing like this if Robin knew Tim was there.

Finally the little Bat turns and spots Tim. He flinches when he finds he’s being observed.

“You!” Robin says, pointing an accusing finger at Tim.

Of all the Batkids, this Robin has never warmed up to him at all. He even tried to kill Tim once after he first arrived in Gotham. Lucky for Tim, Nightwing stopped him.

“Hello Robin,” Tim says.

Robin narrows his eyes and walks down the half wall, never looking away from Tim.

Robin opens his mouth to say something bratty, but he’s interrupted when the kitten meows in Tim’s hands. The sound is soft but clear in this sleeping district of Gotham, and Tim watches a subtle shift take over Robin. He becomes alert in a way that he wasn’t before.

“What was that?” Robin asks.

Tim shows him the kitten.

Robin freezes. He stares at the kitten and asks, “Why do you have a kitten?”

“Catwoman gave her to me,” Tim says.

“Why did she give _you_ a cat?” he asks.

“I was having a bad night,” Tim says with a shrug. “She was trying to cheer me up.”

Robin is still staring at the kitten. This is the longest amount of time Tim has ever spent in the kid’s presence without being threatened or chased with a sword. If he’d known the kid was so weak for animals, he would have gotten a pet a long time ago. Having a Batkid be so blatantly opposed to him has been inconvenient.

“Do you want to hold her?” Tim asks.

Robin stiffens. He looks over his shoulder, like he’s worried someone is going to catch him talking to Stray. There’s a pause where he’s probably debating himself about it, but he finally steps forward and says, “That would be acceptable.”

Tim hands him the kitten.

Tim leans back against the door and watches as Robin gently pets the kitten. The horizon is starting to turn purple as the sun approaches the horizon, and Tim is too exhausted to hold onto his bad mood anymore.

“I have been wanting another cat for quite some time,” Robin says, waking Tim up from his light doze.

“Oh?”

“Father says I have too many animals already,” Robin says. “I do not understand his hesitation. It would be one thing if I could not care for my animals, but I have already proven that I can.”

Tim gets an idea.

“Maybe I could get Catwoman to find another cat for you.”

Robin looks up from the kitten and narrows his eyes at Tim. He asks, “Why would you do this?”

Tim shrugs.

“You know he has a weak spot for Catwoman. If the cat came from her…”

He lets Robin put the pieces together, and the boy considers this. After thinking it over for a minute, he frowns again and says, “What would be in it for you?”

_Smart kid_ , Tim thinks.

“I don’t know,” Tim says casually. “Maybe you could drop a few hints here and there about what Superboy’s real name is.”

Robin actually looks like he’s considering it. Tim can’t believe it.

“Hm,” Robin says.

But before he can say anything, there’s a lot of commotion. Robin quickly deposits the kitten in Tim’s lap and backs away. He’s just recovered when the rest of the Batkids arrive.

It’s all of them—Nightwing, Red Hood, Spoiler, The Signal, Orphan, Batgirl. They’re arguing about something as they land on the building next door. Then Orphan spots Tim and Robin and points.

“Hey, it’s Stray again,” Nightwing says. He runs and launches himself off the building, flips, and lands near Tim and Robin with a sort of grace that no one else could ever match.

“Stop showing off, Nightwing!” Spoiler says.

The rest of the kids follow him over to the apartment building and crowd around Tim and Robin.

“What’s going on here?” Red Hood says.

“Hey, a kitten!” Spoiler says. She cups her face with her hands. “It’s so cute!”

“A kitten?” The Signal says.

Tim lets the Bats pass the kitten around and pet it. They all look exhausted and grubby like they always do after a long night of patrol. The Signal has one arm slightly bent like there's something wrong with it, Red Hood’s leather jacket has several new tears, and blood is slowly seeping out of a cut on Spoiler’s forehead. Not for the first time, Tim’s glad he’s not a Bat. He gets injured sometimes, but not as often as the Bats do. Life is pretty great for a Cat. 

“Were you actually getting along with our favorite kitty, Robin?” Spoiler says, ruffling his hair.

Robin glares up at her and says, “Actually, I was just about to tie him up and take him to the GCPD.”

No one looks convinced.

Finally the kitten gets passed back to Tim, and the Batkids gather in a circle, preparing to move on.

“See you around, Stray,” The Signal says. Orphan waves and departs, and Spoiler blows him a kiss before following Orphan off the roof.

“Hey Robin,” Tim says, before the kid leaves.

The kid turns, already glaring at Tim.

“Think over what I said,” he tells the kid.

Robin’s scowl gets even nastier, but Tim doesn’t miss the way his head tilts just a little as he glances at the cat in Tim’s hands. Nightwing, Batgirl, and Red Hood watch the scene with interest.

“I forget about everything you say immediately, because I find you dull,” Robin says. He gets out his grappling gun and leaves. Brat.

"I can't decide if I want to know what that was about or not," Nightwing says. 

"Don't worry about it," Tim says innocently.

"I'm always worried about you, kid," Nightwing says, and reaches down to pat him on the shoulder.

Tim swipes at him, but Nightwing darts out of the way.

Shouting goodbyes, Nightwing, Batgirl, and Red Hood follow the other kids.

When they’re gone, Tim leans back up against the metal door. Soon the sounds of the bickering Batkids fade away. The kitten settles against Tim’s chest and falls asleep. Tim sits in peaceful silence and watches the sun rise, waking the rest of Gotham to July 20th.

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn't supposed to be shippy at all...in my defense, is it possible to write about Stray without things getting a little shippy? I don't think so.


End file.
